


Endgame

by speakpirate



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Emison - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakpirate/pseuds/speakpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the chips are down, it will always be Alison for her, always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I’m writing this as a hedge, before the 6a finale airs tonight, in case these might be the last few hours when my love for this show is pure and uncomplicated. I have absolutely no idea who Charles is going to turn out to be. Like, with this show it could be anything or anyone - a demon escaped from the hellmouth, zombie Maya with Jason’s old head - who knows? And in the end, I’m on board with Heather Hogan’s interpretation that A is a metaphorical manifestation of the patriarchy, so it doesn’t even matter who wears that face because it’s everyone and everywhere. But I have worry in my heart that the big reveal is going to be some psychotic transgender storyline, and that the time jump is going to have Alison as a hausfrau instead of flying planes and taking down foreign governments for the CIA. I hope that I’m wrong, that the writers and I Marlene King have a better and clearer vision than that. But thank goodness for the world of fanfiction, where I can write my version of Emison as the Endgame, JUST IN CASE.

It’s been over an hour since the end of the scene on the roof, and Alison hasn’t said a word, has gone practically catatonic. She’s not even crying. Spencer has taken over talking to the dozens of police officers swarming around, with Aria and Hanna backing her up. Emily hasn’t left Alison’s side, an arm thrown protectively around her shoulders. She’s not sure where Sara is, has no thoughts to spare for her. When the chips are down, it will always be Alison for her, always.

Lorenzo had been strutting towards them, Emily’s not sure how long ago, but Hanna - bless her - had sized up the situation with a single glance and accidentally on purpose broken a heel at exactly the right moment to instinctively grab at his sling arm to stabilize herself. He let out a very unmanly sort of yelp and then took off - either deciding they weren’t worth the trouble, or that his tennis ball bruise needed further medical attention.

Spencer takes a break from the cops and walks towards them, holding blankets and water that she got from somewhere, as if they are refugees, survivors of some natural disaster. Which, in a way, Emily supposes they are. 

“Ali?” Spencer says, gently. 

Emily shakes her head. “I think she’s in shock.”

Spencer nods, in patented Hastings efficiency mode, setting the blankets down, handing Emily the water. “See if you can get her to drink something. I can’t get ahold of my mom, she’s not answering her cell or the landline, but I think the threat of her bursting in at any moment is enough, they should let us go soon enough and then follow up tomorrow.”

For the very first time in her life, Emily feels grateful for the slipshod investigative methods of the Rosewood police. As Spencer walks away, Emily drapes a blanket around Alison’s shoulders, it’s a thin blue fleece, soft to the touch, and - ridiculously, under the circumstances - goes perfectly with her gorgeous yellow prom dress. Emily opens a bottle of water, and holds it out to Alison, who drinks automatically, still staring off into some invisible middle distance.

“Ali, listen to me,” Emily says fiercely. “It’s over now. All of it. None of this was your fault.”

Alison turns to look at Emily, her eyes huge and sad. “You’re the only good thing that’s ever happened to me, you know.” she whispers. “My whole fucked up crazy life, you’ve always been the only thing that ever made sense.” And now she’s sobbing against Emily’s chest, as Emily wraps her arms around her tightly.

“It’s okay,” Emily promises, stroking Alison’s hair soothingly. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Alison’s tears are soaking the front of Emily’s gown, her body is wracked with sobs, it’s as if she is crying not just for the events of tonight, but for the past three years of her life, for everything that’s been lost along the way. Emily has never seen her so raw, so vulnerable, before. She’s never clung to Emily like this before, like she’s the only stable thing in a world about to be swept out to sea.

Emily sees Veronica Hastings burst onto the scene like a general marching into battle, followed by all their moms, who are looking furious and relieved and a little ragged. Ella Montgomery’s arm is bleeding a little, and Ashley Marin is covered in dirt. And then Emily’s mom swoops over to them, wraps both Emily and Alison in a giant hug. “I am so, so glad you girls are alright,” she says, pressing a kiss to the top of Emily’s forehead, and then Alison’s as well. Alison manages a weak smile, and tries to wipe off the worst of the streaks of makeup that her crying jag has left all over her face with one hand, keeping the other wrapped completely around Emily.

“Let me talk to some people,” Pam says, snapping into action. “I’m going to get you two out of here. Ali, honey, you’re coming home with us tonight, okay?” Emily has never loved her mother more than at this moment, until the moment five minutes later when Pam is bundling them through the crowd of people, steering them away from the sirens and the crime scene unit and into the back of her car.

Alison seems calmer, but she’s shivering even under the blanket cape and Emily’s arm. Pam turns the heat on in the car, and drives them home in sympathetic silence. Emily remembers how upset Pam was after that car ran through their living room, thinks she knows really well how to handle emotional trauma.

In the kitchen, Emily watches her mom make tea, is shocked when Pam pulls out a bottle of whiskey and splashes some into all three mugs as well. She kind of feels like nothing will ever surprise her again, on this craziest of all the crazy nights over the past few years.  
Pam heads to bed, pleading exhaustion. Before she leaves the room, she hugs them both again, says, “You girls are so strong. You amaze me. I’m so glad you have each other.” And Ali has tears in her eyes again, thinking that this must be what it feels like to be mothered. Pam double checks all the locks, then retires for the night.

Emily leads Alison up the stairs, starts to run a hot bath for her. She pours in some lavender scented bubblebath, helps Ali out of her ball gown, averts her eyes as Alison shimmies out of her underwear and slides down into the water.

Thinking that Ali might want some privacy, Emily heads for the door, but Alison grabs her wrist. “Please,” she says in a small voice that breaks Emily’s heart. “Please don’t leave me.”

Emily immediately sits down next to the tub and holds Alison’s hand. She grabs a wash cloth and gently washes the rest of the smeared make up off her face. Emily is so gentle that Alison almost starts crying again. Emily washes Alison’s hair, tenderly.

Alison reaches a shaky hand up and pulls Emily towards her, kissing her softly on the lips. Emily leans in, she could never not kiss Alison, even at a time like this. She tangles a hand in Alison’s hair and sucks lightly at her bottom lip. Then she pulls back, grabbing Alison a towel and a fluffy white robe to change into.

“Em - “ Alison says. “Please. I just want to feel something right now.”

Emily smiles at her, grabs her hand again and leads her to the bedroom. She could never say no to Alison, especially not after tonight. They tumble on to the bed, and Emily feathers light kisses over every part of Alison’s skin that she can reach. She has a knee between Alison’s legs, and Ali is already pressing herself against Emily with quiet little moans that make Emily ache with need.

And it’s not like any of the times they’ve been together before. It’s not masquerading as practice, or a trust exercise, or loneliness. Emily is making love to Alison. It’s sweet and sad and and perfect. And Alison is making love to her, too, lips pressed against Emily's earlobe, trailing her hands down Emily’s toned body, whispering a whole series of incredible truths as she does.

“I’ve never been with anyone without wishing they were you. I’ve always loved you, Emily. Always.”

“Shh,” Emily whispers against Alison’s neck. “It’s okay. I love you, too.”

“How could you, though?” Alison asks. “Everything I put you through - “

Emily tries to distract Ali by running a hand between her thighs. Ali gasps a little. Emily brushes her fingers against Ali’s slit and says, “If I had a chance to do it all over again, knowing what I know now, I would do it all the same. Except I might have done this part sooner.” She slips her fingers deftly inside Alison, as the blonde trembles beneath her touch. Alison reaches out and touches Emily at the same time, and they keep thrusting against each other until everything else disappears, until the whole world is distilled down and the only thoughts that exist are OhgodEmilypleaseAliohgod and it sounds a little like a prayer, which it kind of is. And then they are coming at the same time, and collapsing in a heap of heavy breathing and tangled limbs.

Alison has tears in her eyes for the millionth time tonight, as she says, “I thought you were done with me.”

“I could never be done with you,” Emily promises.

They burrow under the quilts on Emily’s bed, exhausted and spent but with a little slice of elation cutting through all the feelings of sadness and grief.

As they drift off to sleep, Alison feels Emily wrap a protective arm across her chest, feels the warmth of Emily’s body curled into her own. This, she thinks sleepily, is what it feels like to be safe. This is what it feels like to be home.


End file.
